


Aphelion

by RainySunday



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bedside confession, F/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySunday/pseuds/RainySunday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aphelion – the point in the path of a planet's orbit when it is farthest from the sun.</p><p> <br/>After giving birth to her first child,  Mary becomes gravely ill. Despite being banished from court, Bash cannot stay away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aphelion

“Please, Greer. Please just let me see her.”

 

“Bash, you know the king wouldn’t approve. You’re not even supposed to be here.”

 

“Well, he’s not around, is he? _Please_ Greer. I beg you. I won’t tell anyone you let me in.”

 

Greer felt torn – but the look of utter despair on Bash’s face caused her to give in. She gazed down the hall in both directions from her vantage point half behind Mary’s door, and reluctantly nudged the door open to allow Bash entrance. “Francis will return in a couple hours. You’d better be gone before then, or you’ll be found.”

 

Bash grabbed Greer by both shoulders. “ _Thank you._ ”

 

She smiled in welcome, and slipped out into the hall past him, closing the door and leaving Bash in privacy.

 

The dim lighting gave the room an absolutely funerial feel – Bash was barely tamping down the panic he felt trying to rise up and claw its way out of his throat. When he had heard that Mary was ill, that giving birth to her child had left her…….Bash couldn’t even think the words. He knew returning to court could cost him his life – his brother had made that abundantly clear last winter when Francis had returned to court, and his place as dauphin and successor to the throne. That winter when Bash had lost nearly everything. He had stayed away as best he could, staying in a village a few hours ride from court (not Spain as he had been instructed, but there’s only so much you can ask of a man). Even when he had heard of his father’s death, he had stayed away. However, when one of the servants he had paid to bring him news of court every few weeks informed him of the queen’s state, Bash knew his life didn’t really matter that much to him.

 

His breath hitched in his throat, as he slowly walked towards the four-poster bed situated along the north wall of Mary’s bedchamber. _Not now. Not after all this, I can’t lose her now._ He had given her up, she had married his brother, and his heart had broken. But he had at least known that she was safe – or as safe as someone of her status could ever be. It was the one thing that kept Bash going, knowing that Mary still had her life and a chance at happiness, even without him. But seeing her this way, so pale, missing that vitality and spark that he had fallen in love with, seeing her laying spread on her back, eyes closed, breathing labored, - Bash felt the ground pull out from under him, his whole world upend. There was no foe to fight, no one he could argue with, nothing to bargain with. _Nothing_ he could do. He felt that panic clawing back up his throat again, and swallowed a few times in a failing attempt to keep it at bay.

He was at the bedside now. Pulling up a chair, Bash took the cloth and basin that Greer had left on the nightstand and wiped Mary’s brow in an attempt to cool the fever that wracked her body. The action caused Mary to turn, slowly opening her eyes. It took her a minute to focus, but when she did, she slowly reached her hand up towards Bash’s face.

 

 _“Bash._ ” Her finger weakly traced his jaw. “Why have youcome back _?”_  She whispered, her voice even weaker than Bash had suspected it might be. His heart tightened in fear. They were losing her. Still, for Mary’s sake, he forced a smile and took Mary’s hand in his own.

 

“I heard you were trying to die on us. I had to come by and make sure you were alright.” Bash tried to make his voice light, but it cracked. _I will not cry._

_“_ You’re in danger here. When Francis returns from Callay _….”_ Mary was forced to stop for breath. “When he returns _…”_

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I know how to take care of myself. Besides, Francis gets bored if he doesn’t have me around to torment.” _He could do this. He could be strong for Mary. He wasn’t going to allow himself to waste what could be his last moments with her by being emotional._

 

This brought a smile from Mary. “He always was too hard on you…”

 

“What are younger brother’s for, if not to make your life difficult?” Bash stroked Mary’s hand, running his thumb gently across the small white scar on her palm. The place she had willingly cut herself when his cousin had died, and they had buried her together. He remembered how he had wrapped her hand afterwards, and how he had cupped her face as they kissed by the grave. How soft her skin had felt. That day felt like it happened an eternity ago.

 

Bash reached out and brushed a curl away from Mary’s face, remembering how bright her cheeks had once looked. She was barely a ghost now. _No. Change topic. Do not think of how this will end._

“I hear that you have given France and Scotland an heir.” Bash forced himself to smile at her again, and not focus on how tired she looked, and how shallow her breaths were.

 

Mary returned a grin, albeit shakily. “Not quite. I’m afraid France and Scotland will be a bit disappointed in my child, given that she is a girl.”

 

_A daughter? Mary had a daughter._

“Well, if she is anything like her mother, she will not disappoint. She will rule with a strong will and a clear head, just as you do.” Bash’s mind raced, as he tried to picture the little one. He wondered if she was doing alright, given the aftermath of her difficult arrival into the world.

 

“Where is she?”

 

Mary closed her eyes. “She is with the wet nurse. They say she is strong.”

 

Bash stroked her hand again. “Well, then you had best get better so that you can get out of bed and look after her. We all know that you Scottish royals can’t be left unattended too long without getting into mischief.”

 

Mary smiled.

 

“What is her name?” Bash tried to distract himself. _Don’t focus on how weak she is._

 

Mary’s eyes flickered open once more, and Bash’s heart leapt to see those sweet brown eyes again. “Her name is Evelyn.”

 

Bash’s brow furrowed. _That was my grandmother’s name. How could she have known? And why….._

_“_ Evelyn Margeret.”

 

“Mary, why did you give her those names?” Bash’s mind was racing. Surely Francis would not be pleased if he found out the connection his new daughter had with his estranged bastard brother.

 

“Margaret after my own grandmother, and Evelyn after her father’s.”

 

Bash’s eyes swung straight to Mary’s face. _Surely not…._ His mind flew back to that one night, that night in the aftermath of Clarissa’s death by Mary’s hand. That night she had been so upset, she couldn’t sleep, so had sought him out. That one night when…. His mind did some quick math. Nine months. But her marriage to his brother had been so soon afterwards, it would have been impossible to know.

 

“Mary! Look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Is this my child?” Bash’s heart stopped, and then flew away again at full gallop. If this child had any resemblance to him whatsoever, they were all in great peril. Mary would be charged with treason. And if she survived this…..

 

“How could you even know? Mary I _plead_ you. Please, tell me this isn’t my child.”

 

She turned to him, and with great effort removed her hand from his grasp, which had become quite tight in the last few moments, and reached her hand up to cup his face. She said nothing, just gazed at him.

 

Bash was beginning to panic. _This was not possible. They had only spent one night together. And if it was his child, we would never be able to see it. Her. Never be able to hold her, get to know her, raise her. And Mary….._ Bash’s train of thought was derailed when Mary began to cough. He quickly reached over to help her sit up some, and relieve her breathing. After placing another pillow behind her head, he smoothed the blankets back around her, and resumed stroking her hair.

 

“Mary, if anyone ever finds out, you will be killed. You know that. Why would you risk giving this child a name from my family?” The agony inside Bash at the thought of what the outcome could be from his mistake – letting his passion get the better of him and…. “Mary, I am so sorry. We never should have spent the night together.”

 

Mary suddenly looked angry. “Bash. Never apologize for that. I do not regret that night. We were robbed of our time together, and that night was the one glimpse I have of what marriage to you could have been like. Regret none of it.” This upsurge of energy drained Mary, and she had to take a few seconds to regain her voice. “Evelyn, our beautiful daughter, will not be found out. You forget Bash, you are Francis’ brother – and share many of the same looks. She will be raised as his own – no one knew of our time together.” Mary paused again, and brokenly added “I just wish that I would be around to raise her.”

 

Now it was Bash’s turn to become irate. “Don’t say that. Of course you will be here to raise her.” He tried not to let that small part of his mind telling him that, logically, she only had a few days left push to the front. He could not thing of that.

 

“Bash, I have heard the doctors. I have very little chance of recovery – there was much…… blood…..when I gave birth. And since this fever has taken hold…” Mary turned her eyes away from his face, and Bash felt his heart sink. _She could not say it. Saying it would make it real. Please don’t say it._ “Bash, I’m not likely to recover from this. I’m too weak to fight the fever.”

 

All his resolve was not enough anymore. He tried to ignore the tear that had escaped his eye, and leaned forward, grasping Mary’s hand in both of his own, bringing his lips to her soft, pale fingers.

 

“Mary, you must fight. _Please.”_

“It is ok Bash. I have come to peace with this. And seeing you again, just this once, it has brought my heart such relief.”

 

Tears crept down Bash’s face unchecked now. “ _Mary._ I _cannot_ lose you.”

 

Her eyes turned to his own once again, meeting, and Bash read the agony there. Not anger at the prospect of dying, but agony of not being able to give Bash the comfort she obviously wanted to give him. He needed to steel himself – this was not fair to Mary. He needed to be strong for her. But his reserve was gone, there was nothing left to draw from. Mary was his sun – his anchor, his ground. Without her, he was set adrift. There was nothing left to cling to.

 

“Please Bash, I know you are banned from court. But please promise – promise me that, should life allow it, you will get to know our daughter. Protect her, even if you are only able to from a distance. I am so sorry things turned out this way….”

 

 _He could give her this. He could give her his word._ “I promise.”

 

They sat there together in silence for some time, Bash watching Mary drift in and out of fevered sleep. The candle next to him was dripping wax onto the floor, it having spilt out of the small holder it was situated in. The moonlight was making its journey across the floor of the room, marking the passing of time. Bash felt it running away from him, as water through fingers. He wished he could draw it up again, take it back and hold on to it.

 

When a knock on the door sounded, Bash was still clutching Mary’s hand in his own. Greer snuck into the room, and she rushed across the floor to where he sat.

 

“Bash! Why are you still here? It has been hours, and Francis is returning any moment!” She whispered frantically at him, a look of slight panic in her eyes. “You need to leave before you get caught.”

 

“I don’t care.” Bash returned his eyes to Mary again, and brought her hand once more to his lips.

 

“Bash, Mary would not want this. Do not throw away your life. Do not put Francis to the test – I know he is your brother, but he is angry. And he is hurting. Do not test his threat on your life. _Please._ For Mary’s sake. You need to go.”

 

He looked up at Greer, knowing deep inside that she was right. He had made a promise to Mary. A promise to look after their child. _Their daughter._ Bash leaned forward, and kissed Mary on the forehead, trying not to focus on how warm she felt. He tried to memorize her, her smell, the color of her hair, the curve of her neck, the angle of her nose. _You have to leave._ Bash stood, finally failing at holding back the complete hysteria he felt in his chest.

 

“Thank you Greer.” He couldn’t look her in the face as he made his way out of the room. When he reached the corridor, he began to run.

 

 

 

 

 

He wasn’t even off the castle grounds when the bells began to ring – the bells that signified if someone was born, married, or if someone had………

 

Bash sank onto his knees in the fresh November snow and wept.


End file.
